


Ask Nicely

by Kaerith



Series: Snark & Spark [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: "You want me to drop it, Flash, you're gonna have to ask me a little more nicely," Snart says, cocking an eyebrow and tossing the vase in a gut-wrenching flip before catching it again one-handed.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Series: Snark & Spark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019287
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	Ask Nicely

**Author's Note:**

> Supposed to be a short Tumblr fic, but there was a character limit? -_-

"You want me to drop it, Flash, you're gonna have to ask me a little more nicely," Snart says, cocking an eyebrow and tossing the vase in a gut-wrenching flip before catching it again one-handed.

Shit. _Shit._ Snart's voice is doing that condescending drawl he is so good at that makes Barry's knees threaten to turn into jelly. He had noticed Leonard Snart's insane bad-guy hotness at their first encounter, but he had thought he had been able to hide his reaction. And, after all, not every time the Flash and Captain Cold have faced off has ended with Barry panting after Snart... just most. After Cold had gotten away. After Barry had maybe let him get away so that Barry could find some privacy with his own hand sooner rather than later.

This was probably a joke, though, right? Just a taunt. A shot in the dark, because Snart was trying to make Barry freak out. It wasn't like he knew. He couldn't. Despite what his smirk and piercing blue gaze were hinting.

Barry is a hero. He can outrun Cold's gun eight times out of ten. Nine, maybe. He just has to be- ha!- quick on his feet.

"Tsk tsk," Smart says, waggling the priceless artifact at Barry. "Imagine how easily old pottery can crack if it is, say, directly next to a freezing arc of air." The muzzle of the gun is right next to the vase as he aims it at Barry. He has a point. Barry swallows.

"Please put the vase back down carefully," Barry says.

"Are you sure that's the question you want to ask? Come on, how about giving me some... incentive." The way Smart eyes him makes no misinterpretation possible.

"I hardly think I'm your type," the Flash says, trying to put a disinterested and impatient tone in his voice. He is afraid it came out a little more disappointed than unaffected, though.

Snart gives a little toss of his head to the right. "There aren't any cameras on. It's just me and you and your little backseat drivers whispering into your ear. Mute your mic and I'll make it really easy for ya, kid. Tell ya just what to say to make me put this down gently and let you cart me off for some... disciplinary action." The last two words are drawn out suggestively with an accompanying leer. Snart's mouth is just... tempting.

"Guys, I'll risk it," Barry says to Cisco and Caitlin. "It's just Cold. I can handle him." Snart's lips twitch into a smirk and Barry rolls his eyes at how the thief can turn everything into an innuendo, but he can feel a spike of want in his gut as he imagines "handling" certain parts of Captain Cold. He turns off his suit's vocal pick-up and crosses his arms. "So what are the magic words?"

"Easy," Snart says, which makes Barry feel a sense of dread that it whatever it is will _not_ be easy to say. "...Say, 'Take me, not the vase.' And be polite about it. If you convince me, I'll put it back exactly where it was, not even a fingerprint left behind to show it was even touched."

Barry's heart thuds in his chest even quicker and heavier. "And where do you want to 'take' me?"

The asshole makes a little show of rolling his eyes. "I was making it G-rated, but if you'd prefer it I suppose instead you could say-"

"Nope!" Barry cuts in, nervously. Then he has a thought that he might have had the wrong idea after all. "Wait," he says, "You would.... With a vase?"

"Not literally, but I suppose I will have to find _some_ sort of comfort for my fragile ego if you turn me down," Snart just drawls, impatience dripping from his tone, not flustered or embarrassed at all. "I'm getting a bit tired of this cat-and-mouse foreplay, kid. Figured I would make it easy for you. Just say the words and we can go somewhere more private and you can relieve your mind by having a noble excuse to get what you've been panting for. Namely, some of this." He licks his lips and gives Barry a smouldering look that really makes his alter-ego's name very incongruous.

Barry still feels the need to defend himself. "Crime isn't foreplay!" Snart just gives him an unimpressed look and gives the vase another little toss that makes the Flash lean forward and grind his teeth. "Okay. Take me. Not the vase," Barry says dutifully.

"This coy act isn't going to be cute for much longer," Snart says, unexpectedly quite serious. "If you aren't really into it, or are too much of a coward, then I have been considering picking up stakes and moving to-"

"Please," Barry manages to say, past a sudden lump in his throat. "Take me, not the vase, Snart." Had he really been thinking of moving? That would... kind of suck, actually. Foiling Captain Cold's heists was _fun_ compared to the real metahuman disasters the Flash had to deal with. Even Caitlin got a bit of good humor in her voice when she dispatched Barry to a Cold incident instead of anything else.

"Good," Snart says, tipping his gun up so he isn't actively threatening Barry any more. Still, Barry is on edge as he moves to the shattered display case and replaces the vase unharmed. "I'll drive."

"Drive?" Barry doesn't use his superspeed so he ends up almost scrambling after Snart as he walks out of the museum to his motorcycle.

"Hop on," Snart says, holstering his gun with a smirk. "I've made a deal with the Flash," he calls out to the four CCPD black-and-whites and their officers who are braced behind their car doors. "Just a little property damage, but nothing's been stolen."

"I'll deal with him," Barry says, feeling young and stupid. What do they think he can actually _do_ to Captain Cold if he is going away with him on Cold's own bike? If the policemen have any sense, they would move in and cuff Snart while he doesn't have his weapon in his grip. But they actually just stand back and watch as Snart mounts his motorcycle and then Flash gets on behind him.

"Idiots can't handle anything there isn't already written protocol for," Snart mutters snidely. "This is what society gets when law enforcement is a bureaucracy instead of something effective."

"Are you, the master criminal, _complaining?"_ Barry says. His words might have been lost in the sound of the bike being turned on and revving up. "Would you prefer an ARGUS-style crackdown like Starling City had?" He persists, half-yelling at Snart's ear as they begin to roll away from the museum.

Snart just shrugs. "Hold on."

It's a different sensation to tear through the streets at less than Flash-level speeds. It's more dynamic, like they are whipping through the air instead of Barry almost sliding between individual molecules. The fake-fur lining of Snart's parka hood keeps getting into Barry's mouth. No cops chase after them, though, and even with an indirect route they pull up into an underground parking garage pretty quick.

Snart has to pull a keycard from a pocket to open the elevator. When Barry doesn't immediately follow him into the carriage, Snart says, "You're my hostage, remember?" The mild statement jolts Barry into movement, and it's completely surreal to be standing side-by-side in the small space with the bad guy. Though Snart has really eased up on the badness since they had had to team up.

There is a woman unlocking her door when Snart leads Barry down a hall. She blinks at them before saying, "Costumes again?"

"I'm a nerd, Laura. What can I say?" Snart says easily.

Laura just shakes her head with a smile as she meets Barry's eyes. "At least you've found a friend who is just as bad as you."

"He is bad," Snart agrees, giving Barry another taunting look. "In fact, he is so much worse!" Like the dramatic bastard he is, Snart twirls with his arms held up and gives the fakest laugh Barry had ever heard. It's a con; he is fooling this woman-- but he does it so _easily,_ like it's fun to play himself off as a regular guy with a stupid hobby or something. "Don't mind any sounds you hear tonight. We'll just be choreographing a fight scene for YouTube."

"YouTube?" Barry mutters.

"It's on the internet," Snart says, slow and condescending, as he unlocks an apartment door. "You know, where fans of costumed heroes and villains pay homage with dumb home movies?"

" _Home movies_ ," Barry shoots back. "Sometimes I actually forget how old you are, and then you say words like 'home movies.'"

Snart's place (if it even is his place) is normal-looking. Nice, even, if bland. And Barry is hit with... something as he walks into the front room. He shakes his arms out and looks distrustfully at Snart. "Just something to short out the electronics in your rubber onesie, Flash," the thief says with another smirk. "You might want to call one of your friends and let them know you're fine." He tosses Barry a flip phone.

Barry stares at the device that might be older than he is. What the hell is he _doing_ here? Has he lost his mind?

Snart puts his parka, goggles and gun into a hall closet and lifts an eyebrow at Barry before he goes to the kitchen. Barry opens the phone and dials one of the few phone numbers he has memorized. "Hey Iris. Would you mind getting in touch with Cisco and Caitlin? I'm fine, the suit just... shorted out."

"What the hell?" Barry says, pulling off his cowl as he joins Leonard Snart in his kitchen. The man is drinking a glass of something brown and clear. "Bourbon?" He asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Apple juice," Snart corrects, and he can look so attractively smug no matter what he is saying, and it drives Barry insane. "My blood sugar was getting a bit low. These late-night jobs throw off my eating schedule."

"First: you had to fry my suit? And second: this is _not_ a 'rubber onesie.'"

"Your friends have already pinpointed your location to my apartment, Barry," Snart says dryly. "I figured it would be prudent to prevent any little surprises you might have. Except for what I was planning on being surprised by."

Barry didn't know what he was referring to until he caught Snart's pointed look. He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "I didn't ask to come back to your secret hideout," he carps.

"Well, I don't know what _you_ were expecting, but _I_ wasn't planning on enjoying a furtive rendezvous in an alley or something. I've got more patience and class. If you really want to leave, go ahead," he said with a shrug. "We'll say 'sayonara' and I'll be off across the country to do my thing in another city."

"You are actually planning on leaving Central City?"

Snart shrugs. "Depends."

"...On what?" Barry presses after waiting a few moments for an explanation that didn't come.

"This game with you is getting old." Snart leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I am getting too well-known. I need a new game, a new challenge. I figured I would offer you a fuck with no consequences before I decided what to do next. You aren't as subtle as you think you are," he adds with a low rumbling chuckle.

"A, a fuck?" Barry stutters. He can feel his entire face turning red.

His nemesis' lips twist into a slightly mocking smile again. "Handjobs, blowjobs, fucking," he shrugs like it's all the same. "I'm flexible. And experienced. So tell me, Barry Allen... what is it you keep thinking about me that makes you blush so much?"

"I've never," Barry finds himself choking out, and he rushes to mitigate his humiliation. "With a guy. And your mouth...."

There is that dark laugh again, thankfully less mocking. "So _that's_ your fantasy, huh? Well, let's make it happen. You want to... unzip your... suit?" Snart doesn't call it a 'onesie' again, but those pauses intentionally make Barry recall that insult.

With this sexual frisson between them finally out there in spoken words, Barry feels shy and reluctant. He wants to do what Snart suggested, but it is hard to follow Captain Cold's orders because it is _Captain Cold_. He worries that his inability to act means Snart will change his mind, but when the man stands up and approaches him there isn't anything hinting at anger or even dismay in his expression.

"Cold feet?" Snart says, and Barry hates and loves all those stupid puns in equal measure. "We can warm things up a little."

Barry has no idea what Snart means but lets him slowly snake an arm around his back. When Snart has him in his arms, his other hand gentle on the side of Barry's face, it reminds him of _why_ the thief is so magnetic. Snart is warm and smells human and there is just this overwhelming attraction that makes Barry's knees weak. Like he's under some sort of magic spell.

Snart takes a portion of Barry's weight as the speedster leans against him. "I'm not a monster, kid. Remember?"

"Can you not call me kid right now? And I never thought you were a monster. Just a criminal." His eyes flutter shut before he is even done with his token protesting.

Snart traces Barry's jaw with his nose. Barry can feel his breath on his skin and knows that his lips are so close. "Mmm-hmm," Snart hums. "A criminal, maybe. But I don't consider myself a bad man, Barry. Unless you want me to be a little... bad."

The murmuring and closeness has gotten Barry hot. The way Barry's name had sounded coming from his lips like that. "Fuck. _Snart._ "

Snart's hand tilted Barry's head and they were suddenly looking at each other from so close. Snart has one of those half-smirks which had always driven Barry wild with anger or amused exasperation. Now he is just thirsty as he sees it. "Call me Len," he says, before he closes that scant inch of distance between their mouths.


End file.
